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Does that mean you’re going to be my fake fiancé?
Do I have a choice???
Marc
Yes.
But I’m still hoping you will help me out here.
I said I would, didn’t I?
Marc
Actually, you didn’t. You said I owe you a raise.
You do ??.
Just as I’m about to type out another response to him, I get a notification at the top of my phone screen from my bank that a deposit has been made. I open it to see what this is all about because it’s not payday.
My jaw drops to the floor when I see a deposit made for five thousand dollars.
The sender? Marc Ford.
Of course he has quick access because he’s the one who personally deposits my paycheck each week.
What in the actual…?
Was that necessary? ????
Marc
That’s not your raise. Don’t worry.
That’s also not payment for coming with me. I know you’re not an escort. ?? That’s so you can find something to wear for tomorrow night. I asked you to be my date and I’m putting you out with all this last-minute shit, so it’s the least I can do. You have no idea how much this means to me you’re willing to help me out here.
Seriously, thank you.
I don’t respond right away because my brain isn’t wired for this type of generosity. I’m not used to guys actually being nice to me. Okay, maybe that’s not the right thing to say. They are nice to me, but I can tell when it’s actually genuine, and when it’s fake. Most guys put up the fake nice guy act to try and get what they want out of me.
Yes, Marc needs my help with something, but it’s all for show. He’s not getting anything else out of it. I can tell he’s being genuine in his gratitude. I know by just that one text, that he feels bad for putting me out on such short notice like this.
Now I feel bad for being an asshole.
Who am I? I never feel bad about my attitude.
I can do this though.
I can be a fake fiancé for one night.
It’s just one date.
I must have been drunk when I agreed with my brother, Thomas, to his idea to ask Avery to be my date to this charity event. Don’t get me wrong, she’s amazing at her job and drop dead gorgeous. However, she’s a wildcard. A ticking time bomb if you will. The girl has no filter and a dirty mouth. She’s about five foot four with a six-foot five attitude on her. Which I shouldn’t find so damn hot because she is so far from being my usual type.
The first time I saw her was when she walked into my office for her interview. She was the last candidate of the day, and I was already aggravated over the others. Every single one of them had no experience working as an assistant. Some of them were secretaries previously, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.
She had every qualification and experience I was looking for, but she had to show up filling my office with some kind of floral aroma I couldn’t quite pinpoint at the time. She was wearing the tightest, black pencil skirt that stopped just below her knees and didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, with a white button up blouse that was so slim fit, it could have easily been painted on her. Her buttons were open just enough to expose the top curves of her breasts. My eyes couldn’t help but look.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I scanned her body up and down the moment she stepped foot into my office that day. A petite woman with sun kissed skin that complimented her blonde hair perfectly, and an innocent face that I’m sure gets her carded in every bar she goes to. She truly didn’t look a day over twenty, but her high school graduation date on her resume told me she was in her late twenties.
